Lord of the Guys OR The Really Hungry Plot Hole
by Of the Stage and the Page
Summary: The motivations of the Plot Hole are finally revealed in this satirical new twist on Lord of the Flies.


_**CHAPTER 1: The Sound of Susan's Horn**__or __**The Sound a Plot Hole Makes When It's Really Hungry**_

_Once upon a time, a young boy with hair as white as snow…er, whoops, wrong story._

Once upon a plane crash, a young boy with fair hair, also known as Fair Hair Boy, also known as Nameless-For-the-Sake-of-Dramatic-Tension Boy, unbuckled himself from his detached airplane seat and leaped gaily to his feet. "Good 'ol seat belts," he said, giving the tattered thing a fond pat, "They get less credit than they deserve. Good thing I was wearing mine when we crashed. That must be why all the adults seem to have died."

"I couldn't agree more!" A random voice proclaimed from the dark abyss of the jungle. Another young boy, known as Fat Boy, entered the scene. "Or maybe they were swallowed by a giant plot hole," he continued. "I read that those are rather abundant on abandoned, mysteriously uncharted tropical islands."

"Is that where we are?" wondered Fair Hair Boy aloud. "An island?"

At that moment, a tribe of evil natives exploded from the jungle, rupturing the undergrowth. "THIS IS OUR ISLAND!" they shrieked passionately, but stopped short as they were greeted with the completely blank stares of Fair Hair Boy and Fat Boy. "Er, whoops, wrong Island," they said, scooting off in embarrassment.

"Well, that clinches it!" Fair Hair Boy exclaimed in relief. "Creepy 'Others' trying to run us off like in LOST? We're definitely on an island!"

"So…you think it might be a good idea to look for, y'know, the rest of the passengers on the plane? Like, maybe the pilot, since he could potentially fly us back home?" Fat Boy suggested helpfully.

Fair Hair Boy shook his head adamantly. "No. That plot hole, remember? It swallowed all the adults. It probably swallowed the pilot, too."

Fat Boy was not quite ready to let go of his futile hope. "Well, what about the plane? We could find that and fly it back ourselves!"

Fair Hair Boy shook his head once more. "I think the plot hole swallowed that, too."

There was a moment of silence as Fat Boy mourned his lost hope. "Must've been a hungry plot hole," he finally muttered, head down. Then he looked up, a suspicious gleam in his eye. "Actually, come to think of it, how'd we even get here?"

Fair Hair Boy gave it some thought, snapping his fingers when an idea occurred to him. "The plot hole! I bet it swallowed us _all _up in midflight, then spit all the kids out here on this island but kept the plane and the adults!"

Fat Boy considered this, dipping his head side to side. "Okay," he relented. "Okay, seems reasonable."

After a moment pregnant with awkwardness passed, Fat Boy asked, "What's your name?"

He quickly backtracked when Fair Hair Boy shot him a thoroughly shocked and offended look. "It's just that I'm getting a little tired of referring to each other by physical characteristics," Fat Boy explained apologetically.

Fair Hair Boy sighed. "You've asked me to reveal the greatest secret of my soul, so don't expect me to be nearly as rude and demanding in return," he warned. "My name is Ralph."

"Oh," Fat Boy replied. "Oh. Cool. Okay."

In a sudden burst of manly desire for exploration, Ralph took off at a blind run through the dense jungle trees in what he assumed was the direction of the beach. Fat Boy ambled along behind him, huffing in a very un-manly fashion. Overcome by an equally intense desire to show off his equally manly body, Ralph ripped his clothes off and lay panting on the sand. Ten minutes later, Fat Boy collapsed beside him.

"I've….got….as…tha…ma….," he panted.

"_Ass-_mar?" Ralph asked with wicked delight, for he was a twelve-year old boy, and his mind was just beginning to teem with dirty jokes. It would have been a solid joke, too, had its meaning not been lost on the American audience members who had no concept of British pronunciations.

Fat Boy rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Yes, go on, poke fun at me. However, it's necessary for me to be physically weak, because I'm intellectually superior. Had I been just as physically capable as you, I would have become a cliché, overly perfect Gary Stu. And nobody wants one of those in a novel."

"Eh, you're right," Ralph agreed, looking Fat Boy up and down. "If you're as intellectually superior as you are physically incapable, why, we could just call you 'Symbol of Human Logic!'"

"I don't care what they call me," Fat Boy said, "So long as it's not what they used to call me."

Ralph smiled cruelly. "Since you were so rude as to ask me _my _name, I must be doubly rude, and not only demand to know what you used to be called, but also proceed to have everyone call you by that name for the rest of the novel!"

"Piggy," Fat Boy whispered in flame-faced shame.

Ralph whistled. "I must say, you are of admirable character. That must be another reason why you have to be physically incapable. Your honesty is almost disgusting; you could've lied and given me a name like 'Barry' and just said that you hated the name."

Piggy sighed in misery, staring down at his feet. "That's another one of my gosh-darn goody-goody traits," he said. "I'm just so pure. But, alas, it is a cross I must bear."

By this point, Ralph was snickering into the back of his hand, and soon his giggles escalated to unflattering guffaws. In an attempt to distract Ralph from the humiliation of his name, Piggy pointed in a random direction and cried, "Hey! Look at that!"

Ralph, being not as intellectually superior as Piggy, but certainly much more capable physically, fell for the trick. And found something worth looking at. "Whoa! Susan's horn from _Narnia_!" He turned to Piggy in round-eyed wonder. "Piggy, you really _are _good for something!"

Because he had a flair for the dramatics, Ralph scrambled onto a rock, stared majestically into the sunset, placed the horn to his lips, inhaled deeply, and…blew. The sound he created was halfway between the bleating of a baby goat and the airy sound a trumpet makes when the person playing it is not using enough air.

Piggy turned away from him, discreetly giggling into his hand.

Soon, Ralph's face was turning red with the effort. "Diaphragm…of…steel," he gasped, "ACTIVATE!"

Inhaling deeply once more, Ralph blew into the horn, and this time produced a noise Susan would've been proud of. Like little rats summoned by the Pied Piper, the rest of the children appeared from the arms of the jungle and congregated around Ralph, who continued to blow dedicatedly. After a sizeable crowd had assembled at his feet, he dropped the horn and proceeded to pass out. When he finally came to again, some fifty-six minutes later, Piggy filled him on what he'd missed.

"…and we learned everybody's names, and we sang kumbaya and did trust falls, and that kid over there is going to form a group of hunters, and we're going to explore the island," Piggy finished in a rush. "For some reason, we need to make sure this is actually an island, so we're going to walk around it to make sure."

"Sounds good to me," Ralph said, getting to his feet. He summoned the boy who was going to form a group of hunters, also known as Your-Awkward-Ginger-Freckled-Friend Boy, who in turn summoned one of his "hunters," who was also known as Gangly-Punk-Rock-Star-Hairdo Boy. The three of them set off to explore the island.

As they walked along, admiring the scenery of the island, they all exchanged names. Your-Awkward-Ginger-Freckled-Friend Boy was no longer known as such; he had now been reborn as Jack. Gangly-Punk-Rock-Star-Hairdo Boy was actually a quiet, thoughtful Simon. They exchanged their theories about how they were going to be rescued, and what they would do in the meantime ("Don't be ridiculous," Jack huffed when Simon softly said that he thought they might turn to savagery and possibly kill each other); and finally, after several games of "I Spy," they reached the other end of the island.

"Huh," Jack said, "So it is an island! Whelp, that was an informative trip. Time to head back now."

The three turned to head back to the others, about to revamp their game of "I Spy," when Jack paused, lifting his nose into the air.

"I smell pig," he said. Crouching down, he ambled away into the trees, Gollum-style. Pulling a knife from his belt, he waited for his opportunity, while Simon and Ralph looked on in mild curiosity.

The pig's grunts and snorts preceded it. Jack bunched his legs underneath him, and pounced as it made its way out of the brush. He raised his knife, prepared to make the deadly blow, when the pig stopped and made eye contact. All passion for blood and hunting flew from Jack.

"AHHH!" he cried, rolling on the ground with an arm thrown across his eyes. "It looks just like Wilbur! I CAAAAAN'T!"

Ralph and Simon, making sure to keep a safe distance away, exchanged looks. "Why do I get the feeling this is going to be important later on?" Simon asked.

"Probably because it is," Ralph responded.

Simon sighed. "Cue dramatic music."

_DUHN DUHN DUHN! _


End file.
